Beloved Germany
by LibraMoon
Summary: The year was 1944 when she was captured at the battle of the bulge. Now her fate rested in the hands of a nation driven power mad. Historical. Dark!GermanyxFem!America. Rated M. Warnings inside.
1. Chapter 1

**Dear readers, **

**This may be a trigger for some. I advise you to not read if you are under the age of 18. Noncon-dubcon-con. Germany(crazy in the beginning)xFemAmerica! I know that this is a slightly harder pairing to find. So, I wrote this piece. Please review! Thanks.**

OoOoOo

**December 11th, 1944. 3:30 pm**.

America watched wide-eyed as the German charge d'affaires in Washington handed American Secretary of State Cordell Hull a copy of the declaration of war.

The blonde nation geared for war. Her attitude shifting from her shock at the attack of Pearl Harbor into a steady building rage. She'd tried to stay out of the fight. Had honestly made the attempt, and now the war was literally being brought to her.

America knew when the draft went out, heard the wails of the mothers that would lose their sons. Wives that would lose their husbands. The children left without fathers.

She knew the moment her soldiers touched soil in a foreign country and died, so far from her own shores.

She dawned her uniform, watching as her people put for a herculean effort to protect her. The bombs, the planes, the guns, and the rations that were so carefully accounted for.

With steely determination in her normally happy eyes, she answered the call of her people. The challenge thrown down in their blood.

America went to war.

OoOoOo

**December 16th, 1944**

He captured her at the battle of the Bulge. Purely by accident. The Germans, crazy bastards that they were, threw 250,000 soldiers into the initial assault. America stared with grim determination at the 14 German infantry divisions, guarded by five panzer divisions, against her 80,000 American soldiers. Their assault came in early morning at the weakest part of the Allied line, an 80-mile poorly protected stretch of a hilly, woody forest. Germany was with them.

Fate had not been on her side.

He'd been able to force her men to retreat, due to the vulnerability of her thin-spread and isolated units. Even the weather conspired against them as the thick fog that prevented Allied air cover from discovering German movement descended over them.

They'd dragged her from the bodies of her soldiers, as she'd stayed behind to try and save them. It was just her luck that Germany happened to be there. His blue eyes were eerily deranged as he smiled down at her coldly.

"Look what was found in the 'Mist'." He chuckled to himself, and ordered her brought to his tent.

There he'd beaten her soundly while she cursed his ancestors, people, and existence all the way back to the beginning.

The next day, he had her transported along with the remaining prisoners to a location she couldn't name. America tried to keep the spirits of her men up, and they grew very protective of her, often glaring at the stray eyes of the SS soldiers. She kept their hopes alive with talk of home and loved ones. She gave them a will to keep going.

They were her reason for existence.

One night, she was roughly grabbed from a sound sleep and brought inside to see Germany. His eyes hard and they pierced her to the quick. She was ready for him, now. She launched herself at him, trying to take him down, but he punched her firmly in the midsection.

America coughed, and stomped on his boot hard enough to break bone. Germany grunted in pain and back-handed her. Her already bruised face, gave way and her lip split. Blood oozed sluggishly as she spat in his face, tears of anger clouding her eyes. She sneered at him, the blood and spittle trailing down his face.

It stained her teeth a sickly sort of orange-yellow against the white and blood.

Germany let loose a dark chuckle, wiping it off with the back of his hand a leer. "Such a little antagonist," he said with cruel amusement.

"You started this," she snarled at him, refusing to back down even though he had her cornered.

His face turned carefully blank, and he pulled her toward him. His breath was warm on her face as he stared at her, searching for something.

She met his stare and held it, refusing to back down.

Germany 's eyes danced with his malice and America kept silent, waiting for him to strike. He shoved her toward his desk, she stumbled and fell hard upon it. He took her arms and bent them painfully behind her back, grinning all the while.

He leaned against her, letting her feel just how strong of a nation he really was. His lips were just centimeters away from the side of her face, as he hummed in a pleased manner to himself.

She hated the way he made her burn at his touch. His tongue licked a path down her cheek. She made an attempt to bite him, but he slapped her ass painfully. She could feel his excitement when she yelled at him.

"Go fuck yourself, you Nazi bastard." She shouted enraged.

"Why ever would I do that?" He asked lowly, seductively, "When I have you?"

America's eyes widened and thrashed against him in earnest.

"Oh please," he whispered in obvious amusement, "continue to struggle."

She began to panic, trying to tamp it down. She needed to escape. Had to get out of here.

"That Hitler bastard has made you crazy!" She sneered haughtily, hoping to push him to the point where he would beat her senseless, instead of this.

He slapped her ass again, even harder.

"Fucker!" she snarled in pain. Her blue eyes were murderous and she continued to taunt him. "I bet you go down for him, don't ya? That's why you have to try and force yourself on prisoners. You sick, degenerate, fuck!"

His face was next to hers as he grabbed her by her hair, roughly pulling it upward.

"Ah!" She shouted in pain.

"Such a filthy mouth," he whispered with dark intent. "Do all American's spew such filth? Or is it only you, little girl?" He hummed in his throat, and licked her neck slowly. "Go 'down' hm? What an excellent suggestion. Let's put that mouth of yours to good use, shall we?"

She knew exactly what he was getting at and it wasn't fucking happening.

She thrashed, ignoring how it hurt her to try and yank her head away from his unforgiving fist in her hair. He openly sneered at her attempts to free herself. He yanked her off the desk and shoved her onto her knees.

She barred her teeth at him.

"No teeth," he warned her grimly.

"I'll fucking bite it off." She promised him with fury blazing from her words.

Germany chuckled, a low and dangerous sound. "Will you?" He placed his hand under her chin, as she shied away from him as far as she could go. Which wasn't far.

Her eyes promised pain and a thorough ass kicking if he tried anything.

"You bet your ass."

"Hm," He grabbed his gun, and pointed it at her head.

America glared up at him, unflinching. German grinned widely, and she felt a lead weight in her stomach. Sometime bad was going to happen.

"Prussia!" Germany shouted.

The door opened after a few moments, revealing the albino nation. America swallowed, her moth still holding the salty tang of blood. Her blue eyes narrowed at the newest fucker she'd have to beat into submission the moment she got a chance.

"Yes?" He asked, his eyes carefully avoiding America's burning stare.

"Bring me one of the prisoners," he said with a smile that could have rivaled the devils.

Her gaze swung to him, mounting terror welling in her stomach. Damn. He was going to use her soldiers. That devious little prick.

"Fuck you," she snarled, trying to charge at him from the floor.

He brought stars to her eyes with the force of the blow of his gun to the side of her head. America dropped like a ton of bricks, her legs suddenly having given out. She could feel the sticky warmth of more blood. Her ears were ringing.

She blinked, trying to get the vision of two Germanys to clear.

The door opened soon after, dragging a young man that couldn't have been more than two days past nineteen. America grit her teeth, ready to throw herself in front of the soldier if she had to. The man had been beaten within an inch of his life. His arm and one leg were obviously broken as Prussia dragged him forcefully into the room.

"Don't say a word soldier," she commanded forcefully.

The man's eyes widened and he looked instantly concerned for her well being. His brown eyes frightened and equally furious. He nodded, fighting back against the pain.

America felt a burst of pride for the young man. She had such brave 'sons'. Her people would not be so easily broken, and she took solace from them.

Germany cocked the gun, and pressed it against the man's temple.

"Now, I think we were in the middle of something," he said coyly with a touch of wickedness to his words.

America mentally swore up a storm, her eyes hard and unforgiving as she openly challenged him. "Go to hell." She hissed.

Her soldier laughed. It was the last thing he ever did. Without mercy, Germany shot him in cold blood. His blood mixed with hers as America stared at his corpse with wide eyes.

Something in her snapped. She lunged for Germany again, only to receive another sound blow.

"I'll fucking kill you," she raged.

"Nein," he stated, nearly panting, "you'll just get your '_fucking_' as you so eloquently put it."

He grabbed her roughly by her hair again. Shoving her toward his crotch. His other hand still clutching the gun tightly between cruel fingers. He gave a toothy smile, his eyes slightly crazed.

"Get to it. Or are you too stupid to know what to do without instruction?" He taunted, pressing the gun to her temple.

"Fucker," she said calmly, "You'd better just shoot me, because I am not-"

"Oh, I won't shoot you, America." His eyes nearly smoldered in unrepentant enjoyment. "I'll shoot every one of your pitiful little soldiers. Right. In. Front. Of. You." He promised.

She started to tremble, not wanting to hear the deafening sound again. She couldn't sentence her men to certain death for her pride. They would doubtlessly be tortured, but there was a chance, as long as they lived, that rescue could come.

She needed to get as many of her boys home as possible.

With shaking fingers she reached for his breeches, starting to unbutton them. Her face pale and she tried desperately to think of home and country. She freed his growing length, trying not to see the face of the soldier that had just perished.

She can feel his eyes on her, and she loathes him with every fiber of her being for doing this to her. If he makes a fucking joke or bratwurst comment, she will bite the damn thing off no matter what he does to her later.

She doesn't want to look at it, and closes her eyes. and opens her mouth. Her hands wrap around his member and he lets out a hiss of approval.

Bastard.

Her tongue threatens to retreat back into her esophagus in order to avoid feeling the taste of him. The scent of him is slightly musky and it makes her feel sick to her stomach. She starts to move her head back and forth.

Germany still has a fist in her hair and he starts saying something in German she can't understand. She doesn't want to. She tries to block all this out with the fast beating of her heart. He pushes himself deeper into her mouth, and she chokes slightly. She can hardly breathe as he thrusts into the moist cavern.

It takes all she has not to bite him, knowing what he is forcing her to do. However, he's gone crazy since Hitler has changed the will of his people. Germany is not himself, but even that cannot forgive his twisted sadism. He wants to hurt her.

And, he is doing a damn fine job of it. She can feel his length twitch and harden in her mouth. She finds herself hoping it will be over soon as she commands her to use her hands. To really make him enjoy it. She hates him.

She wants to bring him low, like he's doing to her, but she cannot take the blood on her hands. America takes a breath, steeling her nerves as she pleases him with her mouth. She has him groaning and thrusting rhythmically. He's got to be close, because her jaw is aching like fire.

She is forced to swallow a large amount of saliva to keep from gagging further.

Suddenly he pushes her off him roughly. America cries out as he lands on her heavily. She tries to take a swing at him, but he laughs and holds her hands down with just one of his own.

He's tearing at her clothes. She screams obscenities at him. She calls him a piece of shit, a coward, a bastard, and every name she can think of, trying to buck him off.

Germany holds onto her tightly, guiding himself into her. America howled in rage and shame as he pauses at her entrance. An evil sneer on his face. He leaned down and kissed her, grinding against her subtlety.

She gasps in outrage, and humiliation. The bastard.

He takes his time, forcing her body to respond even as her mind and mouth scream against him. His fingers invade her depths. He strokes, pinches, and rubs in places that have her clamping her thighs together to keep him out.

No.

Please No.

She prays for help, for anyone to stop him. To her horror and shame, she feels herself growing slick. Their eyes lock and she goes to spit at him again, but he captures her mouth. America bit him, hard. Germany reared back, smiling through the blood trickling down his lips.

America thrashes under his hold, trying to dislodge him, but he's using his weight to keep her pinned down. His lips smear blood over her neck and she screams in frustration and helplessness. She wants him to stop.

His fingers keep up their play with a vengeance and America feels her breath come out in short pants.

NO.

She tries clamping her thighs together again, but to no avail. He is everywhere at once, his hand, lips, and tongue defile parts of her flesh.

Forgive me. She pleaded silently in her head while her thoughts screamed at her for responding at all. She felt the heat pooling in her loins, terrified of what he'd say. she couldn't even close her eyes without seeing him doing this to her.

Silence, deafening silence broken only by their panting breaths.

Germany said nothing. He aligned himself, and pushed into her with a slow thrust. His one hand holding her arms above her head, and his other fondling her as he rutted against her.

Her slick folds accepted him readily even as she tried to pull herself away from the situation. He was a Nazi bastard, raping her. She wouldn't feel this. Couldn't afford to feel this.

He was deliberately trying to get her to climax, she knew it. It would be a chance to further degrade her. She tried to ignore the clenching feeling inside of her, the rubbing of his fingers against her most sensitive spot. She tried to block out the German he gutturally whispered in her ears.

"_Täubchen_," he groaned against her skin as he quickened his pace. His mouth on her neck, and he bit the place where he pulse pounded wildly.

America bit her lip so hard that she reopened a split. She would _not_ make any sort of noise to urge this bastard on. She wouldn't.

Molten heat kept pooling, and soon her thighs were trembling from something other than invasion. She tried to picture someone else doing this with her. Her mind conjured up the images of the allies, trying in vain to find country to block out this defilement with.

No, not now. She could feel the faint whips of pleasure invading her staunch attempts to ignore him. It was coiling low in her belly. Stretching, tightening, readying to snap.

"Stop," she bit out, squeezing her eyes even more tightly shut.

He chuckled against her ear, it sounded almost fond. She recoiled at the sound, trying to shift away from him, but only succeeding in making him thrust harder. The ache had started to build again, insistent and unrelenting.

"_Schöne Versuchung_," he purred gutturally, causing her body to slicken even further as the undeniable heat he caused coursed through her veins.

Her mind became clouded as she tried to sort through what little German she knew, tried to take her focus off the terrible pleasure. Too much. No. She couldn't. She wouldn't.

"_No_," she denied as her core clenched, unable to deny the sensations any longer.

Germany grabbed her face and kissed her as he gave her thrust after relentless thrust. She felt the moment his seed flooded her, and she felt her eyes water in dismay.

He removed himself from her, leaving her spent and trembling on the floor.

His icy blue gaze landed on her with a satisfied sneer.

"Clean yourself up America," he said with distaste as he straightened his own appearance and tucked his cock away. "You reek."

She flipped him off as he opened the door, and left her in the tatters of her pride.

OoOoOo

**January 25th, 1945**

He had her for three weeks steadily. In different positions and in different ways. He tied her to his bed and ravished her there. He made her ride him on his chair while the radio played in the background. She'd listened intently to the propaganda, firmly believing in her heart of hearts it couldn't be true. Germany's people could not be winning the war. America actually began to hope for times when he would call her into his office, and if she argued with him quickly, or took her time in submitting to him; he wouldn't even notice he'd left the radio on.

A vicious cycle.

He woke her up more than once by thrusting hotly into her. Those times were the hardest for her, because she would still be slick with his essence from earlier. He was a beast that was slowly crushing her ability to fight against him.

Shame and hope were eating her alive.

Shame for every time she found pleasure in his ministrations and debauched couplings. Hope because each day might be the last time.

So many times he found release in her that she lost count. She loathed that he nearly always had her body responding to his ministrations. Her orgasms were the largest destroyer of morale for the strong nation. He whispered words she didn't quite understand, always with a gentle hand. His pleasure was seeing her bend, knowing the mental torture was far worse for causing her pain.

Though he enjoyed plenty of the physical. He bound her in more ways than one as he drove himself to the hilt, his words dripping with lust and as she shuddered against him. His bright eyes always wanted to watch the moment she descended into coital bliss. America hated him for it. He forced her to look at him.

Always.

She had to look at him when it happened. There was always something guarded in his eyes but he watched her reach completion every time he was able. He rarely forced her onto her stomach anymore, he wanted to see her face.

She felt herself breaking under his onslaught of psychological warfare. She was wearing thin and her mental defenses were weakening. She was not always able to stave off her peak of pleasure. When she did, it left him furious and cold for at least a day.

He fed her, and allowed her to bathe, but she was never permitted away from him. When Germany was called away for yet another strategy meeting, he left her under Prussia's red and apathetic stare.

She tried pleading with Prussia to release her. She even went so far as to tempt him with allying with the United States or even England.

He's spat at her and declared that he didn't want his 'brother's' little whore or her cast off England. She'd been forced to stay quiet in her growing solitude because Prussia promised he would allow some extra rations for her imprisoned soldiers, provided she shut up.

America tried to lure him into conversation, to find out what was going on in the world outside her gilded cage. She did not touch Germany's bed unless she absolutely had to. Too many memories of it already. She ate little, and though she hoped to lure a mouse or cat with her scraps, she never found any.

If only she were able to send some sort of message?

She wasn't sure if her people even knew she was missing. Knowing of her was the highest security clearance. She'd posed as a nurse to even make it near the front lines. However, she'd gone against the warnings of common sense, needing to be 'in the trenches' so to speak, with her men.

This is where it had gotten her.

OoOoOo

**February 18th, 1945**

Something inside her was twisting, no longer fearing being locked away by Germany forever. His touches became less and less unwelcomed and America feared she was descending into madness right along with him.

There were moments where he was almost gentle and kind. Those were the moments she had the hardest time fighting against. Each day brought yet another 24 hours where she'd had not contact from her allies, and only the words of Germany to cling to.

She rebelled against him, as often as she could, before he threatened the lives of her soldiers once more. He made her pay in blood, sweat, tears, and sex. For whatever reason, he hadn't killed her yet. America wasn't sure if it was a blessing or a curse.

She starts trying to get any information she can gleam from his office. The papers, all writing in some sort of code, one she knows England has cracked and it causes her to miss him desperately, tell her next to nothing. However, there are maps, and drawings on some of the papers. Little scratches that mark territory.

When Germany catches her, because she was so absorbed she didn't hear him. He bends her over his desk and fucks her without mercy.

America can only howl her pain and pleasure in between panting breaths. Her eyes fixated on papers she cannot even read. When at last he is satiated, she attempts to wiggle out from under him, but he turns her around and starts the whole thing over again. She claws at his back, trying to hold onto something when everything is slipping from her grasp.

Later that night, she tries to ask him about her soldiers. His eyes are hard but he bites her shoulder with enough force that he leaves a bruise. He no longer allows her in his office at all, and cuts her off from the radio.

America bides her time.

OoOoOo

**March 7th, 1945**

There is something budding between them. Between the days where she never sees him and the nights where he won't leave her alone. He is constantly stressed and his eyes gleam with a paranoid air, as if the walls are closing in on him at any moment.

This is the first day she finds herself actually starting to worry what happens to Germany, and when he falls asleep, remains awake.

When he whimpers from dreams she knows all too well, she presses her body against his and shares the comfort of holding him. In the moonlight, he is not so menacing and she is not afraid of him. He doesn't look like the sadistic prick she's come to know and she cautions herself not to entertain those thoughts.

The war between them we very much real, and America can feel it in her bones, that it is coming to a close. It just has to be. She can sense her people somewhere near her. Not just her soldiers, but in Germany. She can feel them as she presses against his skin. Their will beckoning to her and her blue eyes look up at his wincing face.

Somehow, she just knows they've made it into the country.

They cannot go on like this.

OoOoOo

**April 12th, 1945**

She physically feels her president die, and it brings tears to her eyes. She remains motionless on the floor, not daring to move or speak.

_Roosevelt._

She knows the instant he passes and it is like a shot to her heart. Was he killed by the Germans? Was he safe on her soils? She could not tell that much, only that he is gone and now Harry Truman succeeds him.

Still she mourns his passing as she rocks herself back and forth.

When Germany finds her, hours later, he seems to know what troubles her. His blue eyes are unreadable as he wraps her in his arms as she cries.

This night, he kisses away her tears and helps her not think of anything but him.

OoOoOo

**May 7th, 1945**

_He'd been furious when he entered the bedroom that night. Tension in his shoulders an air of defeat about him. America swallowed, scarcely believing Germany could ever even look like that. Not when he made her body burst into flame with his tainted touches and kisses. _

_He gave her a look that told her a wealth of information. Though only one part had her changing thoughts. It was time to say goodbye, wasn't it? Would he kill her? Would he forgive her if she left? Should she care?_

_Her blue eyes slowly lifted to his, she looked so vulnerable but there was need in her eyes. He was a raging beast, barely controlled. She could tell he wanted to lash out, wanted to make something hurt and bleed. However, she simply didn't want it to be how they parted. Not after all of this. She reached for him, her lips pressing against his softly._

_He stood, trembling in her embrace, and pulled back. His eyes were wild and he was breathing harshly. America traced the line of his jaw with a delicate touch. No words needed to be spoken. Not assurances given. She would bend this night, if only to save them both from madness. He dipped his head toward hers, kissing her again. Slowly, languidly, and with the same amount of heat as their first night together. _

_When her lips parted, it was as if the flood gates had opened and he had to touch her. His fingers caressed her curves, her breasts, and finally settled at the juncture between her thighs once more. She whimpered into his mouth and he greedily sought to coax more of those delicious sounds out of her._

_He was pushing her back toward the bed. Allowing her to fall. He helped her tug off her clothes in a fevered rush. In between they exchanged kisses of need. His hands moved over he body, finding her slickened folds. _

_He tore his mouth from hers and placed light bites on her neck. He loved the feel of her against him. He felt elated, knowing that she was consenting to this. He groaned as she bucked against his hand. Every one of her little breathy moans went straight to his cock._

_Germany, whispered words of ownership and devotion in the same breath. All of them in his native tongue, which America did not fully understand. She whimpered under him, trying to draw him closer with each passing moment. _

_His eyes watched every facial expression she made. Germany had memorized long ago what touches had her burning with passion and melting in his hands. He closed his lips around her nipple, as he flicked his tongue against the sensitive bud._

_America arched and squirmed._

_He wanted to be inside her, but not yet. No. He would make this last for her. An offering of sorts, because he could never apologize. He simply didn't have the words._

_However, he knew the feelings were there as they had always been. Since the first day he made her bend to him. From the first time he'd put that sweet little mouth to work. _

_His eyes darkened further, as he vividly recalled the memories, until they were the most unforgettable shade of azure America had ever seen. His accent was causing heat to pool and she wanted desperately to rub her thighs together to ease the ache. Because she did __ache__._

_"Please," she begged softly, nearly inaudible over the sound of the accompanying moan._

_"I didn't hear you," he said lowly, a thinly veiled promise in his words. Words that had brought her to fulfillment and crushing depression numerous times. _

_America turned hard eyes toward him, allowing them to soften as she looked on the man who'd forced his way into her life, her bed, and her mind. _

_She loved him. She feared him. She wanted him. She despised him. Her only vice. __Germany__._

_"Please!" She cried out, her body begging along with her tone._

_He knew what she wanted, but refused it to her. His mouth gave her a satisfied smirk before he was crushing their lips together. He ground his pelvis against hers, reveling in the heat radiating from her. She was moving against him with her hips undulating, her hands fisted in the sheets beside her. _

_She felt like she was being overtaken. _

_Her wetness seeped into his breeches, and Germany couldn't care less. He couldn't get enough of the feel of her skin, the taste of her, and the sounds she made were driving him to the point of a lust so painful he'd have to slake it in her folds._

_"You're going to satisfy me, woman." He growled with a lustful look._

_America nodded, not trusting herself to say anything. There was a presence about him like this. She was a puddle of wanton need beneath his harsh and unforgiving stare. His mouth twisted into a knowing smile as he stroked her center. She let out a little sound of frustration._

_He smirked at her, slowly slipping his hand inside the thin covering separating their skin to skin contact. His eyes were focused on her as his fingers teased her entrance. Germany swallowed reflexively. She was so ready for him, her body was excited from his touches._

_She was responding of her own volition. He didn't need honeyed threats or promises of pain to have her wet to his touch. _

_She moved with his hand, the first time she'd ever done so without having to be broken down first. It was too much for him. _

_She made a circular motion with her hips, causing him to draw in a breath. She was trying to slip his fingers inside her core._

_Greedy American. He thought fondly, as he continued to tease her, stroking her lust to new heights. Germany wanted her wild beneath him. No sense of duty or forced intimacy. Not tonight,_

_He felt powerful as he watched her moan for him, without artifice or guile. She sincerely wanted him to take her to the heights of pleasure. Germany slipped a finger inside her moist cavern and America gave him a satisfied cry._

_"Germany," she said softly, her voice full of yearning. Her eyes betrayed her uncertainty and between them, that was perfect. _

_He marveled that for a loud nation, she was so quiet when she was laid before him, ripe for the plucking._

_He wanted to wait longer. He did. He wanted to draw out their last time in such a way that she could never forget him. However, America looked at him with pleading eyes and was only able to mouth out 'You'. Her legs drawing up as she planted her feet on the bed. Her head rolled to the side, and she increased her movements._

_He hurt with how hard the act of her letting go against his hand made him. He withdrew his fingers from her, and used both hands to rip her undergarment to shreds. America made a surprised gasp. Germany swore in his native tongue as he attacked the buttons on his pants._

_His blue eyes smoldered as he freed himself, and pushed against her entrance roughly. America whimpered, excited by the animalistic look on his face. She knew what was coming, and she wanted it with every fiber of her being._

_He called her his darling as he sheathed himself fully inside of her. America pretended not to know what the word meant. It was too painful between them already. With tears pooling in her eyes, she greedily wrapped her legs around him. Germany loved to watch the sight of her on his cock, blue eyes wide, looking at him as if she'd break without him there._

_He bit her neck, hoping to leave some evidence of their joining. _

_He groaned and gave himself over to moving inside of her. He buried his face in the crook of her neck while he answered the instinct as old as time to lay claim to her. He nipped lightly at her neck and shoulder._

_She tightened around him, clenching at him as she moaned her pleasure in his ear. He loved the sounds she made when she was twisting beneath him. Silently begging him for more. _

_Such a proud country, reduced to this. He felt a shiver of excitement from it. He needed it. Craved it, _

_He never wanted to stop. He never wanted to let her go._

_Germany sought her mouth. Her lips parted and he plundered her mouth as he rocked against her with a steady pace. His hand fisted in her hair, the other held her hip with a firm grip. More. He needed more of her._

_He had to taste the very essence of her on his tongue, one last time. Just once more. It would hold him over for the endless nights without her. _

_Her legs around his waist, she used the position for some leverage as she tried to move with him. However, his iron hold on her hips made it nearly impossible to go as fast as she wanted. It was a slow sort of madness that was driving her insane. An incredible anticipation that she never wanted to end._

_Germany preferred it like this. America begging him for every inch he gave her. Every inch she took. War should have been like this. With only their two bodies moving in tandem. No killing or bloodshed._

_He wanted to make the moments of her in his lover's embrace last. Yet, with every wiggle of her hips, ever tightening of her silken muscles made it much harder to hold himself to that standard. He wanted to hear her cries of pleasure-pain as he brought her to the brink of an ecstasy only he could give her. _

_He ended the kiss, drawing a ragged breath as America moaned under him. Her lips were swollen from his kisses, bites intermingled, and with his hand in her hair. He pulled back on her golden locks, adoring the way she arched against him. She was giving him all of her and the affectionate act made him shudder in desire._

_Moving his hands, he lifted her hips slightly, driving home and bringing them higher with every thrust. Germany nearly growled when her cries of pleasure became louder and America tried to push back against him more erratically. Finally, she was letting go of her hate of him. Finally she wasn't thinking about it first when she moved against him. _

_He ground into her roughly. _

_"Please," America begged hurtling toward her limit. She whimpered as the sensations intensified and his slow, hard, measured, movements were keeping her from getting there fast enough._

_"Mein Schatz," he whispered to her with his voice laden with pleasure. abandoning all pretense of restraint as he drove into her over and over again. Each time just a bit harder. He wanted to brand the feel of him insider her on her memory. America moaned underneath him._

_She felt so hot. The temperature in her body was spiking._

_So close._

_Almost._

_"Germany," she gasped with glazed eyes as she climaxed. Her body instinctively clamped down on him as she rode out the waves of her pleasure._

_His blue eyes saw it all and his cock most certainly felt her trying to milk his own release out of him. He thought she was gorgeous with her starry-eyed gaze and he could not hold back the need to grind against her. His fingers working their magic as he tried to extend her orgasm._

_The feel of her was exquisite, and it left him slightly pained, knowing what was to come._

_He knew he'd be forced to give her up. His mind rebelled against the very notion that they would ever be parted. Not when he was so deep inside her. _

_He was covered her mouth with his over and over. Almost more passionate and desperate with each passing moment as he thrust into her with animalistic lust. It was what he had hoped to hear, had longed to hear from her sweet mouth._

_He couldn't... couldn't wait any longer. He ground against her, seeking his own release. America was moaning heavily under him, her gaze filled with adoration. _

_"I love you," she whispered against his lips._

OoOoOo

When Hitler committed suicide, something in Germany had changed drastically, and the will he represented of his people had also changed. His eyes no longer seemed menacing, but somber and filled with emotions she couldn't place a name to. However, she could sense regret and tiredness from him at all times.

The Allies recovered her on May 7th, 1945. It was the night Germany set her free. He'd been forced to surrender to Italy unconditionally on the 29th of April; he had hidden America away until the bitter end. She could only speculate as to why, thought some part of her knew quite well.

When Hitler committed suicide, something in him had changed drastically, and the will he represented of his people had also changed. His eyes no longer seemed menacing, but somber and filled with emotions she couldn't place a name to.

He'd hastily bundled her up in a stolen U.S. uniform, similar to the one he'd destroyed in front of her months ago. The bed they'd shared had barley cooled when he shoved her out the door. His eyes were hard, and his parting kiss was bitter sweet.

He'd told her to go to the allies. He'd even given her his gun, making her swear that she'd be alright. America had promised him with trembling lips, and eyes filled with unshed tears.

She stumbled toward allied lines, pretending that she'd never been captured, but had moved from battle to battle. Her smile was forced as was the light in her eyes. She should have been elated, but she wasn't. She felt strangely caged, and not freed at all.

She'd heard enough of the details, those times he had bent her over his desk to alleviate his tension. Or how he'd made her listen to the propaganda that his people spewed while he had her screaming his name.

Her secret shame. Their last time together, when she'd whispered her love against his lips. She knew she was a fool.

A traitor.

Weak.

Wanton and desperate for his touch.

America didn't sleep for a long while after she was reclaimed by friendly forces. It took months before she stopped feeling the phantom touch of Germany against her skin every time she managed a fitful sleep. Her lips never dared breathe a word of what had passed between them, and they never would.

It was too much to speak of her tormentor. Her lover. Her crushing oppression. Her own personal demon.

Her _beloved_ Germany.

OoOoOo

**December 11th, 2014**

If anyone ever knew what passed between them all those years ago, they would have thought her insane for being able to forgive him; let alone love him. However, that is exactly what America did. They had a fancy name for it now. Stockholm syndrome. Maybe that is what gripped her after all these years.

She couldn't say. Didn't want to. However, she could never remember that time without thinking of him. Like she is thinking of it now.

She watches him from across the room, wondering if he ever remembers it like she does. If he recalls their nights together, and how it didn't make sense why he'd kept her. Her blue eyes look solemnly at a glass of water in front of her. Her throat is tight at the painful and wonderful memories he brings.

Germany is business as usual, his eyes hardly ever sparing a glance her way. However, she can count the number of times he looks at Italy, and she secretly hates how pathetic she is.

"I'm impressed, America," France says from her right, and she manages yet another blinding smile in his direction. It's as false as it always has been since that fateful day Germany released her.

"About what, dude?" She asked is a carefree and easy manner.

"You have really been paying attention today," the other nation compliments with a touch of respect in his eyes.

She says nothing, but gives him a casual laugh.

Hands slam down in front of them, and America swings her blue eyes upward to see Germany towering over her. It makes another memory play out in her mind and she swallows back the overwhelming sadness it brings.

"If you could stop interrupting the meeting, we could finish on time and then you can chit-chat," he yells glaring at them.

Her fingers itch to touch him. She's missed him, will never admit it in the light of day, but she has. Something inside her was twisted by their time together and she does long for him still. She cannot help the crystalline tears that gather in her eyes, though she refuses to shed them.

So instead, she calmly nods and looks around the room as France gives a half-hearted apology.

Her blue eyes land on green, and she gives another easy lie of a smile. She waits for Germany to go back to the details at hand, watching as he gives the floor to Italy with an unnecessary amount of attention.

She was jealous of Italy. What a strange world. She thought with a small smile.

America was so wrapped up in her musings that she missed the look of heated longing sent her way.

OoOoOo

Germany watched the small, real, smile on her lips as she looked at Italy in amusement. He had no idea what was so funny, but with America it was sometimes hard to tell.

Whenever he looked at her, all he could see was the same spitfire from a nation that had helped stop the rampage.

The Allies had won the war, but America had won something else from him. Something that time could not replace. So many lives had been lost, but he'd clung to the one spot of light amidst the darkness, until he'd been forced to relinquish her.

It still left a bitter taste in his mouth, and he had not forgiven the allies for taking her from him.

Blue eyes met blue. America was looking at him. Their gazes met, clashed, warred, and held.

She would always be his treasure.


	2. Chapter 2

**Huzzah! Reviews! They make me write things. Thank you.**

**Rate M. I own nothing. **

OoOoOo

**December 12th, 2014**

America sighed, knowing that today was just another day wasted. E-mails, phone calls, entertaining the other countries with smiles and polite laughs. There were times when she hated to bureaucracy of all this utter bullshit.

She'd done rather well, in avoiding Germany the rest of the day. Her head was too wrapped up in bittersweet memories of things that could never be again. She rubbed her throbbing temples, blowing out a breath. She felt his eyes on her once or twice during the meeting.

Her body would know the weight of his gaze anywhere. She kicked off her shoes, and took off the jacket to her overly stuffy business suit. She smiles grimly at the America flag pin on the breast. Her memories crowd with her secret shame.

There are times she hates herself, and most of them stem from negative emotions toward other nations. Italy was her main focus for this feeling, and yet she had to laugh at how ridiculous it all was. She ran a hand through her hair, shuddering as she felt the phantom sensation of Germany's fist in her hair.

Fuck.

Being around him was making her go insane. America took a steadying breath. She needed a shower and something to eat.

They had an unspoken truce. Neither of them had ever breathed a word of her time under his control, and surprisingly, Prussia hadn't made mention of it. America knew she could never confess what had happened to the allied forces. How could she?

What could she ever hope to tell them? That she loved the country that had forcefully subjugated her? But, she did. Oh, how she did.

The memories were drowning her.

OoOoOo

**August 1st, 1952**

She's heard rumors about the German blockade being built a year ago on June 24, 1948. It was too painful for her to do much of anything other than pray for Germany. He was likely being torn apart and it felt as if she were in agony with him.

Because she suffered horribly without him.

America played the fool, the act so wondrously perfect that no one could detect that she felt as if she were dying inside. Her smiles were just as radiant as they had been prior to December of 1944. Her laughter was boisterous and infectious. It was the greatest act she'd ever preformed and in it she was truly a sight to behold.

The female nation clung to the vestiges of her battered pride and held together her bleeding heart.

She was successful in refusing to intervene, her world turned on its side. She would have been content to try and piece back together her psyche. However, the Soviet Union blocked the Western Allies' railway and road access to the sectors of Berlin under Allied control. She should have known that Russia would turn on her, now that the largest threat had been removed.

She had felt that he would, an inclination or instinct had always made her just a bit more suspicious of the larger nation with the vacant smile.

So much like her own these days. Russia, looked at her the longest when they'd had a conference right before his treachery. America had worried that he somehow knew. However, the rational side of her brain understood that it was only her paranoia, not his intelligence network.

General Lucius D. Clay, in charge of the US Occupation Zone in Germany, was the one America personally went to see when word reached her of the suffering of the people. She gave the order for the Berlin Airlift. It was headquartered out of Wiesbaden Army Airfield. America silently coaxed the Allies to lend aid. The Allies supplied almost 9,000 tons per day of supplies to the beleaguered city until the blockade was lifted on May 12, 1949.

She never said a word to Germany, but she caught a glimpse of him once in a photo of the city after the worst had passed.

Her fingers gently traced his face, uncertain of the strong emotion threatening to claw its way out of her chest. Crystalline tears filled her eyes and spilled onto the picture. Hastily she wiped the moisture off the picture so as not to ruin it. She placed it back in the file as she struggled for breath.

She missed him as keenly as if she'd lost a limb.

A new joint United States European Command, abbreviated as USEUCOM, was established today on Aug. 1, 1952. Today, the Army headquarters at Heidelberg, formerly known as EUCOM, became Headquarters, _United States Arm_y, Europe.

And all she could wonder was if Germany knew she was there? She'd shied away for years, but now time had eased some of the sting of her confusion. Her blue eyes, shielded by Texas looked over his country with a sense of longing.

She saw him everywhere she turned still.

However, her stay wasn't meant to be. Even though the Cold War was thawing, Russia was still an ever present threat. America leaves, never seeing him and never knowing if he even wanted to see her again.

OoOoOo

**July 15, 1958-1966**

It was warm morning when America dressed for another day of defending the world, strolled into a conference detailing the latest conflict.

Most days she's struggling to keep up with each and every nation that wants to be her ally and those that want nothing more than to watch the world burn. She impatiently waits for her coffee from the secretary, as she turns her attention to the presentation outlining the plan of action. Today, July 15, 1958 USAREUR forces are ordered to assist the Lebanese government. Lebanon looks at her from across the table, not terribly pleased and more than a bit shaken.

America squares her shoulders, flashing a reassuring smile. She'll help the nation anyway that she can, not wanting a repeat of the bloody war from a decade ago. They agree to send her Task Force 201, the Army component of _Operation Blue Bat_ . She thought it a slightly poetic name and she talks with Lebanon, allowing the country to express its concerns over the impending conflict.

She holds back the battle-ready look she always seems to hold these days as it teeters on the edge of her goofy air. She practices the epitome of walking softly-talking loudly- but carrying a big stick. She did miss Roosevelt, he had been an ridged leader and there are moments she wishes she could lean against him once more.

America rapidly deployed more than 8,000 Soldiers from Europe to Beirut by air and sea, not wanting to allow a chance for a bloody conquest to consume thousands again. Her strategy was a large success for she was able to have her troops redeployed from the country within 4 months.

She wonders if all the world is watching as she becomes the Hero she hadn't been before. Some part of her still needed to prove it. To herself, to God. She did not know, but she's trying to outrun the aching loneliness that threatens to cripple her.

She knows she'll have to interfere again, and a large part of her relishes it. It's an excellent excuse to go back, maybe bury the hatchet so to speak. However, she cannot seem to say a single word when they finally enter a room together for the first time in years. It's been long, so very long, and she still feels as his touch upon her skin when their eyes meet.

Blue on blue, both guarded as if the other will strike first. The tension in the air so thick she believes it chokes them. He looks the same, perhaps a bit more tattered around the edges, but he's so painful to look at. All she wants is to throw herself at him and scream at him in the next breath.

Bastard. That lovely bastard.

Her thoughts stray to their time together, and she sees his eyes darken. Is he remembering it too?

He really is driving her crazy and she cannot tear her gaze away from him.

Her boss calls her from the room, and they are gone without a single word spoken.

_Damn it. _

Although the open East-West conflict had ended, political tensions remained high in Europe. "Particularly troublesome was the impasse over the Federal Republic of Germany and the German Democratic Republic ", the memo that passes across her desk says and she grits her teeth. Germany and Prussia were in conflict and she could do nothing. He was a house divided and she prayed, very nearly begged, that he would not fall.

Berlin posed an additional problem; it was surrounded by East Germany, but Great Britain, France, the United States, and the Soviet Union all occupied sectors in the city; and she'd promised to cut off Russia's balls if he tried one more fucking thing. She makes certain to get her point across with Russia. They quietly tear each other apart behind a pair of heavily closed doors. She leaves bleeding, but he is no better off.

Despite their little brawl, Russia remains quiet and the travel between the sectors was unrestricted. Then at the Soviet premier, something America had her men infiltrate to bring back word to her, Nikita Khrushchev announced in June, 1961, that the Soviet Union was planning go through with a peace treaty between them and the East German government. America watches with concerned eyes as 3,000 East German refugees flowed daily into Berlin, hoping to stave off destruction. Her heart in her stomach, knowing that the worst was still looming in the horizon.

She's proven correct on the night of Aug. 12, 1961, when Russia's commie fuckin' Soviets closed the border crossing points. With narrowed eyes she heatedly glares as they begin to construct the Berlin Wall. America understood that he was isolating the three western sectors of the city both from East Germany and the Soviet sector. Or, as she called it, East Berlin.

She was furious when Prussia was shackled to Russia like a damn dog, though she held no love loss for Prussia; she was beyond pissed on his behalf. She met his eyes once, as the wall was being constructed, her blonde hair caught in the breeze and Nantucket swayed softly. She nodded to Prussia with cold blue eyes and an expression that could have frozen the sun.

She wouldn't leave him to that fate. She couldn't. Though she'd worked through her anger at him for his part in her soldiers' deaths. She knew that they were nations, and nations did not have the true luxury of dwelling on the grievances over long. Today's enemy was tomorrow's ally. It depended on the will of their peoples.

Prussia's people had sold him to Russia. The poor bastard.

Russia catches her looking at Prussia and he smiles at her. The empty and challenging smile that always has her teetering on the edge of starting a fucking nuclear holocaust just to annihilate the bastard. As she turns to walk away, she misses the familiar blue eyes that watch her as she goes.

She can't let the challenge go unanswered, she refuses because she'd the United States of America and she'll beat that damn commie bastard till the end of time if possible.

In response, America deploys an additional armored cavalry regiment to Europe. Complete with the support units. She pushes and pulls strings to get everything into place and the USAREUR strength reaches an all-time high of over 277,000 soldiers and she will guide her men to achieving Russia's destruction if he so much as twitches a finger at Germany.

She refuses to let Russia have him. The very idea gnaws at her bones until they burn.

in June 1962 she sends a reinforced infantry to back up the garrison already there.

She stands guard over Germany form the distance from 1962 to 1963. The extra forces she sends home, keeping her eye on the ever present threat of Russia. Her people develop better technology and America is so damned proud of them, even as their will is changing her slowly.

December of 1966 dawns cold and bitter. France has withdrawn his military, but America refuses to leave. He withdraws from NATO so she withdraws from France. The communications zone headquarters moved from Orleans, France, to Worms, Germany. She moves USEUCOM to Stuttgart.

They are always so close and yet worlds apart. She dances around him, and they are finally able to have a single conversation about mundane things.

"I'm not leaving," She tells him quietly, as their bosses discuss things behind closed doors. America hadn't wanted to go in, afraid he'd be there.

Germany found her, coming out of the meeting. His face betrayed nothing as he stared at her with unreadable eyes. She flushed, trying to keep her emotions in check. Her throat is dry and her mouth is oddly heavy. She doesn't know what to say.

They both know her nation has been stubbornly staying when others are leaving. If he wonders why she says, he doesn't ask.

"_Ja,_ I know." He replies equally as quiet.

Her back straightens at the sound of his voice, and she stares out the window. Several seconds tick by with agonizing slowness that is at the same time much too fast.

"Sorry," she says suddenly, "about Prussia."

Germany's eyes are on her. She can feel them, and it makes her shiver.

"Thank you," he says and then leaves her alone in the hallway.

America wonders why she thinks that there was more he wanted to say.

OoOoOo

She steps into the shower on full blast. Her body tense as she watched the steam curl around her. Her blue eyes clouded at the world passes her by.  
>Lost in her own little bubble of steam and lost dreams.<p>

OoOoOo

**1968**

They call it 'The first Redeployment of Forces From Germany'. America dubs it REFORGER and she's honestly happy for Germany.

America removes 28,000 military personnel from his soils, though they remained committed to NATO. She watches with a true smile as more than 12,000 soldiers returned to Germany for an exercise using pre-positioned equipment. She discreetly watches him from beneath her lashes and the corner of her eyes. He looks so happy, so proud. She notices his brass is shining and she imagines he must have stayed up all night polishing it.

Why is it never easy between them? They've only had a handful of talks and all of them have been in front of others. Italy becomes nearly a constant around him. It is the first time she feels jealous of the happy-go-lucky nation that gets Germany to smile and speak freely.

America leaves them feeling strangely bereft of anything except turmoil.

OoOoOo

The heat of the water stings her skin, but she remains scrubbing with a floral scented body wash. However, she takes her time, allowing the sensations to wash over her.

She grabs the shampoo bottle and pours a dollop in her palm. Briskly rubbing them together, before smoothing in on her hair, gently massaging her scalp.

OoOoOo

**1970's**

The impending need in the Vietnam conflict greatly reduce her presence in Germany. She's on the ground with her troops again. Wading through jungles and humidity. Assassination attempts, bombs with much more deadly accuracy and power rain from the sky along with napalm.

She rouses her men into action , though they are ill prepared to deal with the guerilla tactic. It is a devastation to America's forces on several occasions. Still she fights, watching more die around her, trying to be their comfort in the last moments.

She returns to her home bleeding and scarred.

At the next meeting, she doesn't even look at Germany and she doesn't feel his eyes on her at all. She swallows thickly as he speaks with Italy and the others. America knows she's being quietly shunned, and she says nothing. She sits through the whole damned meeting with her head held high.

Fuck 'em. Fuck them and fuck Germany.

Maybe he has forgotten about her now that she is no longer the 'Hero'.

OoOoOo

America holds her breath as the water cascades down her, carrying the suds with it, and she rinses the soap from her hair.

Her hand blindly reaches for the conditioner. Her moves enough to keep her face from being splashed as she squirts some into the palm of her hand and rubs it in at the tips.

OoOoOo

**1980s**

_"The dramatic events of the late 1980s – the opening of the Berlin Wall, German reunification, and the collapse of the Soviet Union – combined to change USAREUR again. Intermediate nuclear weapons were withdrawn, chemical weapons were moved out of Europe, and units began to depart the European continent while others were inactivated."_

It has finally happened. Germany was being reunited with his brother. America grins as the first bricks tumbled down on the street. It is not long before the crowds gathered on both sides of the wall are finally able to see each other.

America closes her eyes and savors the moment. When she opens them again. She sees the two nations.

Prussia looks so relieved, even though he is no longer a nation, when he steps out from behind the wall. His red eyes locked on Germany and he smiles. America watches from a distance, a nearby building as the people cheer and celebrate. It is a great time for the world. A magnificent moment for Germany. How could she not show up?

The albino former nation looks up suddenly and catches her eyes. He knows she's there. He returns the nod she gave him so very long ago. Doubtless he has heard about America's President demanding the wall come down. She hadn't forgotten her promise.

Neither had Prussia, it seemed.

Her blue eyes are glittering with tears and she smiles at him so brightly that her heart is practically overflowing with happiness for him. She salutes him, and he returns it slowly. She sees Germany watching her, and her heart stutters in her chest.

Why does he have this hold on her?

She turns and leaves so they won't see her breakdown.

OoOoOo

She stands under the spray for a long time. So long that the steam has already fogged the mirror and started curling out from under the bathroom door.

She'll get out soon.

Soon.

OoOoOo

They are all business, America and Germany. They don't speak of anything in private and they do not socialize after the meetings with each other like the others.

Sometimes if they are supposed to go to the same event, she arrives late and leaves early. She's never forgotten him. Not for a single day, but he appears content with his life, so what is there left to say?

Except everything she wants to say.

Things she can never say.

He has everything he ever wanted and she was fucking pathetic still pining after him for so long. She resolves to push him from her mind and heart. She could possibly have succeeded, however, Iraq invaded Kuwait in August 1990, and America is off again with her men, refusing to back down again. Images of Prussia being forced to join with Russia still burn her and she just won't allow it to happen again.

And because she thinks of Prussia, she remembers Germany.

OoOoOo

America dries herself off with a fluffy towel, the water having symbolically washed away the memories of her past.

It still never quite gets rid of his touch upon her skin or the feel of him inside her.

God, she needs a drink.

She's never told him that she kept the gun he gave her. She has it locked away in her storage locker, in a glass case that she dusts every time she visits. America runs her fingers through her wet hair, watching the spare droplets as the fall to the floor.

It is the sound of knocking that rouses her from the memories. Her blue eyes swing upward, and she sighs heavily.

She must have forgotten something, or England was coming to chew her a new one again. America didn't bother to do much more than wrap the towel around her. Her feet left wet foot prints as she walked across the bathroom and into the bedroom area of her hotel.

"Just a minute," She called cheerfully, falling into her act with practiced ease.

She hurriedly lifted the lid to her suitcase and rummaged for a bra, shirt, underwear, and slacks. America slipped on her undergarments, cursing internally at the timing of all of this. Couldn't a country sulk in peace?

Was that really such a difficult request?

She shoved her legs through her pants, doing a slight dance to get them all the way on. Her hair was a wet mess, but it would have to do. She pulled the shirt on and reached for the door.

Japan was waiting patiently on the other side.

"Good evening America," he says kindly.

She flashes a trade mark grin that leaves her even more tired. "Hi Japan."

The dark eyes nation peers at her blankly and gestures toward the hallway.

"You are coming to dinner, yes?" He asks politely.

It's on the tip of her tongue to accept when her very own personal torment comes walking out of his room. His room... is right next her this time. Damn. His blue eyes meet hers and she cannot look away. Even with Japan standing right in front of her.

Fucking hell.

"No, thank you," she said with a gentle smile. Her eyes lingered on Germany. "I think I'll just stay in tonight."

"Are you feeling alright?" Japan asked politely.

America waved him off with a laugh and tucked a damp lock of hair behind her ear. "I'm fine dude, don't you worry. I just want to turn in a little early, ya know?"

Japan readily accepts her excuse, making only a token inquiry. "Very well, if you are sure?"

She feels Germany's eyes on her and her hear clenches painfully. The air around her felt too hot and she swallows quickly.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she supplies as part of a informal conversation. "Right?"

Japan nods thoughtfully and turns to leave. Germany lingers in the hall for a moment longer than necessary.

She's unable to keep herself from looking at him. America's eyes meet Germany's again. The longing as plain as day in her face.

The sudden rush of heat is too much, there in his gaze, and she flushes. She bites her lip and starts to close the door, looking away.

"Gute Nacht," He says in a low timber.

America flicks her gaze to him again. Her mouth parts in slight surprise. Her heart is beating fast, too fast and she feels both elated and nervous.

She smiles at him, fondly, her grip on the door slackened.

"Yeah," she says softly, "you too. "

They stare at each other for a moment before she closes the door. America turns and leans her back against it.

Her body feels as flushed as her face. A nearly forgotten moisture has pooled between her thighs. She covers her mouth with one hand and her eyelids slide closed.

He hasn't touched her, but she wishes he had.

OoOoOo

Germany touches the door gently, with his eyes staring at where America had been. Had he imagined it? The look in her eyes. It was so achingly familiar. Her hair still wet from a shower, and he hadn't even realized they were in adjoining rooms.

She was staying in. Everyone else was going out. It would be easy, so easy to hash this all out now. He could just knock on the door and ask her.

Germany could not get her look of naked longing out of his mind.

His blue eyes stare at the door, weighing the probabilities versus the realities of his situation.

His hand curls to a fist, and he hesitates at knocking.

Torn.

OoOoOo

She listens to the sounds of retreating footsteps with a heavy heart. She'd wanted him to say something more, She'd wanted to be able to speak with him.

He had lingered. Did that mean something? Or nothing?

America decides to open the door again, after some minutes have passed. She peers out into the hallway and it is empty, just like she'd known it would be. Her blue eyes are tinged with sadness.

_Fool_. She scolds herself again.

_Fucking idiot. _

She's so caught up in her self-deprecation, she doesn't hear the door open.

She feels the hand over her mouth and is yanked back. She struggles, lashing out. Only to be dragged to her bed. America twists and her blue eyes land on the door that joins her room to the next.

The door that was very much open.

The one she hadn't even noticed in order to lock.

She's thrown on the bed, and she feels fear and excitement war within her. He's standing at the foot of the bed, watching her through half-lidded eyes.

"Germany?" She breathes the question, half-terrified that it is a dream.

That same look is in his gaze as it was back in 1944. When he was unwilling to take 'no' as an answer. Its twisted and wrong, but she quivers at it. He wastes no time in crawling over her and capturing her lips with his.


	3. Chapter 3

**Alright! Thank you for your reviews! You guys rock!**

**Also, if any German is offended by this, I really don't know what to tell you. You're reading a fanfiction where Germany gets to top... You're welcome. ;)**

**Rated M. I own nothing. **

**OoOoOo**

**June 24th, 1948**

Everywhere he's blocked in. Trapped. Unable to breathe at the stifling presences of those surrounding him and he hates it. Why won't they leave him the fuck alone? They've defeated him, and forced him to surrender. How much more can he possibly have for them to take?

The answer is not what he wanted.

They are building a blockade within him, and Germany snarls at the very thought. The other nations, the allied ones, are all over his country. They terrify his already scared people, the Soviet Bastards use this as a time to place pressure on the other allies.

Trying to carve up his body before he is even dead. The vultures.

It's been three years. Three agonizing years without her presence. It is all darkness, but they tell him it is the light at the end of the tunnel. Germany isn't foolish, he knows they spew lies. His treasure has been ripped cruelly away from him. Prussia says nothing about his tormented mood or the fact he is always furious. A raging and wounded beast.

He hopes she hurts as much as he does. He wants it to hurt so she remembers him and doesn't forget.

They haven't spoken a single word about what he's done to and with America. Prussia never brings it up, and neither does Germany. There is nothing to be said. It would be considered just another horrible crime among a large every-expanding list.

Germany had only acted in accordance with the will of his people.

Hitler would have approved. With her blonde hair and blue eyes, something that lent her toward the highly prized blood purity his commander sought, he would have thought she was make a fine country to be subjugated to German will. Germany had meant to keep her as a companion, but his urges had gotten the best of him. Hitler never knew about her. Germany had not spoken of her capture because his Führer had been worried that adding another antagonist, as Japan had done with the bombing of pearl harbor, had tipped the scales out of the their favor.

Time had proven his fear a reality.

Foolish. His forces had been spread too thin, and Hitler had lost sight of the focus.

Germany had been out of control, high on blood lust and power until he'd been stopped.

He was glad and wounded all at once. Grateful that it all could end. The jews had been his citizens. He had felt them die. He hated it as he was forced to love it. America had helped him keep from tearing himself in twain. He had wanted to punish her, to grind that stubborn spirit to dust beneath his boot. Yet, he'd sipped from her body like a man dying of thirst. He'd worked her until he'd both of them barely holding on and screaming in the process.

Her body bucking wildly beneath his, trying to cast him off. The sounds of her moans one moment and curses the next in-between searing kisses kept him awake at night. He often images her screams and cries of pleasure and pain when the ache becomes unbearable.

He remembers the rough nights. Where she made him fight for every inch he sunk into her depths, fury flashing in those lovely blue eyes, a shade lighter than his own.

And he shudders at the last night when she submitted to him so sweetly, begging him without reservation for him to taint her with his madness.

It's all madness.

But those memories are only that, the past in his thoughts.

Now, he's being portioned out between the allies and it is as close to destroying him completely as he's ever felt. Prussia and he fear the each coming day, but he refuses to show it. His people need him to be their strength and guiding force. So he will be.

He hears about it from a taunting Russia, how America refused to intervene. After a year it is removed, the blockade, but the Soviet Nation still taunts him with how no one was going to keep the German people from Russian rule.

He'd fight back, but he's bound unable to do anything as his government was torn down and reestablished. He's greatly weakened but refuses to rise to the taunts of the others. Prussia reassures him in the quiet moments when Russia is not looming over them and the Allies do not have guns nearly shoved down their throats.

America does not appear, even though her soldiers occupy sections of his country.

He hates the way the fact burns like thick bile.

OoOoOo

**1952**

Germany clenches fists in impotent rage. His anger does nothing, and holds no sway. He can feel the looming danger on the horizon, even as whispers of peace and freedom fly around him.

Yet in 1952, Russia takes his treachery to a new height and blocks the western allies. Germany silently seethes as Russia begins to ask of America and what he knew of her. He tells the other nation nothing. Wanting to pound the male's smiling face in until it is nothing more than bloody meat beneath his hands.

In August, America unites some of their forces together by creating the United States European Command. She gives what is left of his pitiful military a chance at redemption, by not leaving him alone to Russia. Heidelberg becomes the command center for the _United State Army, Europe_.

It makes him crave to crush her against him again. To kiss her so soundly that she never even thinks about leaving him again. He can't find her, even when he looks through his city to find her. However, there are moments he can physically feel her presence in him.

Like how he felt him inside of her. Her hands tied up above her head as she tried to fight the pleasure he gave her. That becomes his new favorite fantasy, because it happened many times and he'd never been able to _get enough_ of her.

Now she's planting herself firmly, refusing to be cowed by Russia. He can almost envision the stubborn expression on her face.

It makes him smile for the first time since the war ended.

He loves her almost as much as he despises her for leaving. Even though he knew that she had to leave. He couldn't let her be discovered with the sweat from his skin still cooling on her body. He takes a calming breath as he senses that she'd left him once more.

Germany often wonders why she'd never told the allies. She would not have been blamed for any of it. They would have tried him for his crimes, especially against her person. England was simply itching for a reason to dismember him. America could have told them, but he knows she hasn't.

And he instinctually knows she never will.

It makes him believe the sweet words she'd whispered against his lips before he relinquished her to the harsh realities of the world.

Yet, he does not know if those feelings still hold. It is highly unlikely, so he says nothing. Makes no attempt to contact her after so long. Really, what is there left to say? America is brash and fool hardy, if she wanted him, he would known.

However, she never comes to him and he grows restless and accepting of the fact that his dreams might not come to fruition.

He's been painted the villain after all, and in no story he can recall does it ever end happily for them.

He doesn't need it though, merely wants it.

He is Germany. He will not falter again.

OoOoOo

**1961**

He has been split into two. The Federal Republic of Germany and the German Democratic Republic. Prussia eyes his warily, both of them understanding that something horrible is taking place. Prussia has been hurt far worse than him.

The red eyes of his brother glare heatedly at the other nations. However, he is nothing more than a remnant of what he once was. Still there, but absorbed by Germany. That has gotten them through many of the worst nights and the sounds of his people as they suffer in conflict or fear.

He is still paraded around like a useless toy, not given his chance to stand independently yet. He feels fury toward all of them. They have tried to strip him of his honor. He won't allow it.

He notices one day, when being forced to be present in 'discussions' and 'plans' for the future, Russia's face is swollen and his lip is split in more than one place. He wonders what happened, though some part of him has a guess.

Because it is the first time he sees America again.

It has been so long and the animalistic urge inside of him awakens at the sight of her. She looks just the same, and it makes him remember him words. He longs to wrap her in his arms and show her that he is still alive and not some damned puppet for them to play with. He watches her with guarded eyes and knows both of them are tense.

Does she fear him? It is not what he wants, not like this. His blue eyes look away and notice Russia is watching her with the same intense look on his face. The violet eyes gleaming with the same repressed madness Germany felt.

_Coveting. Greedy. Wicked. _

Russia's eyes are all these things and Germany despises it. He is not allowed to look at America like that.

America was Germany's treasure.

Her nation occupies a sector in his city, and it is the hope he clings to when East Germany is given by treaty to Russia. Germany digs his fingers into his palms so hard they break skin. He is forced to witness his brother being shackled like a willful hound to Russia because Prussia would not go otherwise.

Germany refuses to show weakness at this moment. He will stand tall and get his brother back.

HIs blue eyes land on America, so far away from him. She watches with a hard look as Prussia is humiliated. He watches her nod, knowing she at least gives Prussia some inkling of respect or decency.

Germany swallows the acidic taste of fury when Russia smiles at America. Her blue eyes narrow on the larger nation and Germany knows the look. If given the chance, she'll go after Russia with everything she's got. Much like she'd charged Germany that fateful night.

Bittersweet memories.

He's made aware when America deploys more cavalry to his borders. The joint project reaching an all time strength. He savors it. The feeling that she refuses to back down and let Russia have all of him. Between 1962 and 1963 she is always somewhere on his periphery. He can sense her there.

His darker nature is highly pleased she remains, and wants to feel her submitting to him again. Powerful as she has grown. However, he is not that twisted version of himself anymore. Most days, he just misses her and the few infrequent silent passing bys they have. They move around each other, edging to test the waters.

Neither of them is willing to take the plunge.

OoOoOo

**1966**

America moves USEUCOM to Stuttgart and tells him she's sorry about Prussia. He notices how she does not really look him in the eyes.

He's shocked and left longing for her to say more, but he cannot speak to her.

He simply does not have the words. He does not know how to tell her that she's always on his mind and though he has taken a lover since then, they do not compare to her.

Italy has her same innocent smile, but not the fire and all consuming will. When America went into war, she was all in and he loved it about her. It is not the same weight in his arms or the same scent upon his skin, but it is simply the way things are.

However, Italy is his ally and their nights keep his bed warm and his ability to stay focused possible.

Otherwise he'd keep mourning the loss of her in his arms.

OoOoOo

**1968**

He is re-launching his troops for the first time in decades. America is at his exercise, her face bright for him and he itches to touch it. To kiss the lips he knows so well, and show her. Really show her he hasn't forgotten about her.

Her smile lingers on her lips until Italy bounds toward him with a happy grin. Germany pretends he doesn't see the smile slip of America's face as if her smile were a puppet with cut strings. There is a burning sensation of guilt in his stomach.

She watches them for a moment as Germany proudly tells Italy what he hopes to accomplish. Her blue eyes look away and he knows that she has not taken someone else. His gaze watches Nantucket sway in the gentle breeze.

She is alone and it stings to know that she may take another, even though he already has. He knows it is unfair and wrong of him, but he despises the very idea of someone else wringing gasps and moans from her lips.

It is unthinkable.

Though England continues to watch America with eyes that are so similar to Germany's own, and Germany knows that England longs for her too.

The Bastard.

OoOoOo

**1970's**

He is busy making his country back to what it once was and improving his relations. He simply doesn't have much time to worry about other things, though he hopes Prussia is still alright. He has not heard from his brother and knows that will never happen as long as the dammed wall is in place. He wants it to come down, his people talk of it and his elected officials work furiously for the possibility.

He hears about Vietnam.

He listens with fists clenched until his knuckles are white about how America did not have a sweeping success. Many of her forces are wounded, or killed and he prays she wasn't with them again.

He knows she was when he takes in her somber appearance at the next meeting. She refuses to look at her, so he acts as if nothing has happened; hoping to spare her pride. However, he realizes it is a mistake when others follow his example and she is ostracized for the duration of the meeting.

He hates that she is constantly playing the 'hero' at the expense of herself.

He just wants to keep her safe. If she has to cry or be hurt, let him do the harming because he would be able to gentle it for her.

America sits with her head high, and he feels the same clenching around his heart for her.

OoOoOo

**1980's**

His brother. Prussia is finally back with him. A smile of relief in on his face and he watches as Prussia looks upward. There, on a nearby building, is _America_. She stands on the roof saluting his brother proudly with a smile so beautiful that it nearly physically pains him.

_Gott_ he missed her.

It has been so long since her held her, so long since he loved her the way he wanted to. Anytime he wanted to. She still haunts his dreams, though not as frequently. He knows her President became involved and he is grateful for it.

Germany does not miss the unshed tears in her eyes. It is a moment that moves them all. So happy, yet so sad that it takes his breath away.

Prussia claps a hand on his shoulder as America turns and leaves. He was never able to say the words he wanted to say. Has never forced himself to, though they've had plenty of opportunities.

There is a look in Prussia's red eyes, like he already knows Germany still cannot give America up. He's right.

However, they celebrate that night. And as they hug and drink, and finally look toward the horizon with hope instead of worry...

Germany is content. He missed his brother so.

OoOoOo

**1990**

America is at war again and it takes all Germany has not to rip her from her seat and demand she stop because she'd putting herself in real danger. Didn't she remember what happened in 1944?

If she doesn't and Iraq tries anything, Germany will be forced to step in and he wasn't certain he could maintain his composure.

His hard-headed little _Taube._

There is a look a steel in her eyes, and she watches him the whole meeting. He cannot look away from her blue eyes no matter how often he tries.

He finds himself still sinking in their depths.

OoOoOo

**December 12th, 2014**

Germany is well aware that America grows steadily less popular as time continues on. She is openly mocked and jeered at.

Still America does not shy away. She keeps her allies close to her side and her blue eyes watch her enemies at a distance warily.

Germany cannot seem to get near her and it makes him irritated a great deal of the time. He yells at Italy and other nations to vent his growing frustration. He firmly believes that whatever could have been between them has dies years ago.

It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

Until tonight. Tonight when she looked at him with such longing apparent on her face, even though Japan was speaking with her.

He's right next to her room. Their room, which adjoins and it is clawing at his insides. The heat threatening to spill out of control. She's looking at him and the blush on her cheeks reminds him of days long since passed when she'd scream out her pleasure under his touch.

A moment of blinding possibility.

"Gute Nacht." He tells her, finally able to find words.

She smiles at him, and he can see the affection. He has missed her so keenly. Yet, she's only a few feet from him at the most with her hair damp. He can smell the soft clean scent of her and he craves to do things to her again.

To make the beast with two backs and the beast is rearing its head.

"Yeah," she replies gently, "You too."

When she closes the door, he is so uncertain. Torn between doing something about them or not. Should he?

He doesn't know if it is the right thing, but he cannot go on like this. It has been far too long and the need is in him. In his blood with each pounding heart beat. He feels exhilarated. He does not think.

He is opening the door that separates their rooms after only a few minutes of debate. He had hoped only to talk to her in private, where other nations might not see them discuss the past.

However, when he peers through, he sees her looking out her own door. And when her shoulders slump slightly he knows.

He knows she wants this just as much as he does. So he doesn't need to approach her like a wounded animal, she's not frightened of him and that is all the invitation he needs.

He covers her mouth and yanks her backward against him as he kicks the door closed. She struggles against him, little hellion that she has always been and he _ficken_ loves it. As he drags her toward the bed, because they aren't going to talk about anything until after he's laid claim to her again.

Germany has denied it too long, and he throws her on the bed, an old feeling of power coursing through his veins that leaves him feeling slightly drugged. He watches her with half-hooded eyes.

"Germany?" She breaths, and it is so close to a pant that it has him hardening nearly instantly.

He crawls over her, and kisses her. It is a harsh kiss, meant to punish her for staying away so long and reveals he is angry at himself for allowing her to do so.

He should have made her see, however it was not the time for regrets as she fisted ehr hands in his shirt, and he could feel her tremble. Germany wasted no time in trying to divest her of her clothes and America hurriedly tried to reciprocate.

She's just as eager as he is. Demanding with biting kisses and forceful tugs on his clothing. He refuses to release her. He won't. Not again. He'll wring the screams of pleasure from her body until she's hoarse and unmoving.

Germany doesn't care how long it will take. They have all night. He'll drag her to his bed after he's taken her once.

He'll tie her up with his damn tie if he has to. He won't allow her time to regret it. He won't stop.

When he shoves his hand between her legs she's already wet and willing. His blue eyes look at hers sharply and she blushes, trying to squirm away. However, his hold on her is like iron. America pants softly, closing her eyes.

Germany watches her, practically scorching the image of her face in this moment to his memory.

His _schatz._


	4. Chapter 4

_**Okay, a few things. **_

_**One, THANK YOU REVIEWERS! **_

_**Two, someone asked is it lust more than love. Well, to be honest, it is like a dark sort of love. Obsession almost (not quite Lima Syndrome which is when the captor feels sympathy for the captive) , however, each person defines love as something else...so who is really to say? We all have our own concepts. For the purpose of this story, let's go with dark love. **_

_**Three, To Joan who saw this as a BDSM relationship. To be honest I hadn't really planned on it, but I can paint it more that way. If you readers want. **_

_**Four, for Dewi111- Yes, they will become a couple. It will get there, I promise.**_

_**Thank you.  
>Rated M. I own nothing. <strong>_

OoOoOo

Already it was too intense with Germany touching her. America tried to fight against the slight high that being with him again made her feel. It had been _years_ since anyone had touched her like this. Not since he let her go, she could not even get close to another without seeing his face flash in her mind's eye. She wanted her desperately.

There was little in the way of gentle kisses and nary a honeyed word to be found. Her lips were bruising under the weight of his mouth. His lips embraced hers with such passion it was obvious that he desired her still.

America felt as if they were burning up the bed beneath her, the sexual friction between them rolled in waves. With each touch of his fingers against her nethers, she was trying to pull him closer. He was right next to her, partially onto of her and it wasn't enough. She needed more from him.

He released her, his fingers withdrawing from her folds, and America gasped at the loss of contact. Her blue eyes were glazed and slightly wild.

She was ready to tear his clothes off of him, but he was faster. Soon he was kneeling before her, bare-chested and America's pupils dilated in sheer _want_ of him.

His lips nibbled her neck and the valley between her breasts. His tongue was hot and wet against her skin as she laved a path to her nipple. America's hands fisted in his hair and she trembled. When he had paid enough attention to one, he moved to the other.

Her eyes closed as she felt his mouth on her again. America let her head fall back slightly.

She missed him. Oh how she'd missed him.

She couldn't keep still. She wanted to caress his arousal. America pushed against him softly. Germany lifted his head, and America was left nearly breathless at the look of wild desire in his eyes. She felt her heart swell because some instinct told her that he had missed her too.

Thank God.

She leaned in and captured his lips in a searing kiss. She put all of her sorrow, want, need, and love in it as she pushed him down toward the mattress. She could feel his heat, and his strength, just under her fingertips. It caused her to shudder as she recalled just how strong he could be. There was something feral brewing between them. The need to claim and be claimed in return.

Germany was both gentle and rough, and it was driving her wild. Her head was in the clouds as well as down with her as she tried to use her body to express what she couldn't express with words. She felt as if she were falling, and she never wanted to stop.

Germany growled at her forcefulness, eager and aroused at the same time. America crawled over him, her hand slipped between them to fondle him. The weight of him in her palm, and the heat of his member made slickness pool between her thighs.

His hands were everywhere on her body, teasing and stroking. She rubbed against him, her folds brushing the tip of him as positioned herself above him. She teased the head of his cock, but did not take him inside.

Germany was panting harshly with each kiss and stroke of her body against his.

"_Reizen_," he half-snarled with no real heat when she pulled back enough to gather her breath. Germany was not willing to wait any longer. His hands gripped her hips tightly. America let her head drop to the side as she groaned and planted her hands on his chest.

Oh. Oh it had been so long.

"_Mein Liebling , mein Geliebter_," he hissed as he pushed inside her.

_His_. She understood that much. She winced slightly at the intrusion, though she was willing, her body took a moment to accommodate him. The stretching was not as pleasant as she remembered. However, America was too lost in knowing he was doing this to her to really care. She was close to screaming at the raw sensation of being penetrated by Germany.

Germany. In her head, in her body, in her heart. He was everywhere. She reveled in it. It was so very wrong, she knew that, but she couldn't stop herself. America moaned and rocked against him. Germany pushed up, pulling her with him, until he was sitting and she was still impaled by his length.

He kissed her roughly, his hands nearly too harsh against her skin, but she felt the fissures of pleasure anyway. He encouraged her to move, his hands pushing against her hips. Lifting, dropping, moving forward and back. America twirled her hips, marveling at the full feeling of him inside of her.

Damn. She wasn't going to last long. She felt something rise inside her, the will to fight him, though not in earnest. Perhaps it was the memories surfacing in her thoughts.

She gave him biting kisses on his collar bone, her blunt teeth nipped at the skin. Germany drew a shaky breath.

A knock resounded through the room.

America's head swiveled in the direction of the door, her eyes widening. She missed the narrowed look of determination on Germany's face. She should have remembered he did not enjoy her thinking of anything of him while he played her body like an instrument.

Her mouth opened, a silent gasp of surprise as he pushed her roughly off of him. America fell against the bed, her legs played.

"America?" The clear, crisp, accent of England rang through the room.

Germany looked like a feral animal, full of delight. He flipped America over, and her hands wrapped in the sheets and displaced cover. Germany lifted her hips and aligned himself at her entrance.

_Oh. _

America's eyes widened as he sank into her again. The feeling of him much different at this angle. She whimpered.

The knocking continued.

She prayed her would leave. Give up and go away because she was wiggling against Germany trying to keep from moaning.

"America? Japan said you weren't coming to dinner." England's voice sounded worried and annoyed all at once.

America turned her head to the side, and tried to see Germany, but the angle was all wrong. She closed her eyes and panted beneath him like a bitch in heat. Her mind was consumed with finding release for both of them. She wanted that.

She dug her nails into the bed as Germany seemed to thrust inside her with abandon. She could almost imagine what his face looked like in this moment. His blue eyes glittering with intensity and pleasure. The strong features of his face somehow more prominent as he took her.

She remembered that look all too well.

"Answer him America," Germany growled lowly as he thrust into her. She shook her head, trying to deny him.

If they stayed quiet, then the other nation would leave, thinking she was sleeping.

Germany found a particular spot she enjoyed very, very, well and America had to bite lip to keep from screaming. She was enjoying it far too much. it was too intense. Wave after wave of pleasure broke over her body as he moved inside her. It was nearly consuming her.

America whimpered and caused herself pain, trying to keep from alerting the whole floor to what was happening. She wouldn't scream. She wouldn't. No matter how much she wanted to.

She could feel that Germany wanted that too.

"America?" England knocked again.

She began clawing at the bed as Germany increased his tempo .

"Answer him," Germany commanded again.

"Fuck no," she half-whispered and half-moaned. Slightly scandalized by the very idea.

Germany stilled above her, trailing bites and kisses down her neck.

"Move," she whispered with a twirl of her hips.

"If you don't answer, I won't move." He threatened darkly. America felt him twitch inside of her, as she tried to move against him to keep the sensations.

"What?" She couldn't believe him.

He bit her neck harder and she whimpered.

Bastard.

She fisted her hands in the sheets, frustrated she made a noise too loud to be unheard.

The knocking started once more.

"Are you alright America?"

Her blue eyes narrowed on the door, and she was nearly ready to scream at England to go away. She'd waited so fucking long for this. America clenched her teeth and caved in to Germany's demand as he nibbled on her ear; causing her to shiver.

"Y-Yes!" She said loudly, nearly moaning on the tail end of the reply as Germany continued to torture her body with the sweetest sort of pleasure she'd ever known.

Yes. Oh please. Yes.

His hands moved down to her hips and held her firmly as he ground each thrust into her. America writhed on the bed, her hips rising to meet him each time. She bit the bed to keep from letting a keening wail of satisfaction out.

Quiet. She had to be quiet.

Germany became more forceful and America had the vague suspicion he wanted England to know exactly what was happening in this room.

Bastard. Her beloved bastard.

"So you are in there," England muttered crossly. "Would you open up the door? Some countries have manners like that."

America tossed her head to the other side, trying to keep from reaching her peak with England right outside the door.

Germany leaned down near her ear, never pausing as he delved into her body over and over.

"_Nachgeben_," he whispered lewdly and America tightened around him at the words. Her core instinctively grabbing him harder between her silken inner muscles at the sound of his voice.

Germany groaned above her.

"_Dove. Fühl mich_," he said softly, with his voice thick with his lust.

She did. Oh, how she did. Her fingers gripped the edge of the bed, and she tried to clamp her legs together to stop his onslaught, but his legs stopped the feeble attempt.

"Are you ill?" England asked, and America knew he must be listening at the door.

Why did that turn her on even more? They could get caught, and America didn't know if it as a bad thing, but she thought it might be. Her mind was muddled by sensation and the feel of Germany all around her.

He roughly twisted a fist in her hair and jerked her head back. America whimpered and groaned, not in distress but the heightening feel of excitement. She grit her teeth at the pleasure.

So close. No. She couldn't. Not when England-

"Yes!" America cried again, partly desperate. "I-I'm..." she trailed off as Germany nipped at her neck.

There was silence on the other end of the door, and America tried to keep from panting as she took slow breaths in through her nose.

Stop. Don't stop.

She didn't know anymore. She just wanted to reach that plateau of pleasure. America twisted beneath Germany. Damn.

"Do you need help?" England asked just loud enough to be heard. "Or some medicine?"

"No," America said as Germany moved, and pulled her up to her knees. America felt how slick she was, and when he entered her again, the thrust was much more forceful. It had her legs shaking and America hung dropped her head toward the bed. Her blue eyes could see Germany's legs and watched them flex as he moved in and out of her.

No. No. She couldn't hold it back any longer.

America shoved her hips hard against him, seeking that last bit of sensation to send her over the edge.

Suddenly she tightened around Germany, squeezing him and milking his shaft as she rode out the waves of her orgasm. Her face buried in the bed, and she called his name as he pounded into her. His hands hot and strong on her now still hips.

"America? Are you sure you don't need to see a doctor?" England called from the door worriedly.

She lifted her tousled head and her mouth was heavy as she felt her post-orgasmic bliss settle in firmly.

"I'm going to sleep England, I'll be fine," she lied while trying to keep her voice even.

She succeeded, mostly.

Germany gave a sharp grunt and came inside of her. America's eyes closed and she savored the feel as he pulled out, gathering her into his arms.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!" America snapped.

A moment a silence passed as Germany languidly kissed her, America's hands were on his chest making small sweeping motions.

England interrupted again, sounding put out. "I'll bring you some dinner then, daft chit."

"Thanks," she said, trying to keep her heart from pounding out of her chest.

Her blue eyes met Germany's and he gave her a wicked smile that nearly had her breath stilling in her chest. His gaze was predatory, bright, and pleased all at once.

"We should probably talk," she said, finally finding something to really say to him.

Germany looked at her for a moment, his expression stern.

"Are you sure? Doesn't your throat hurt?" He asked as he reached for her again.

America gave him a confused look. "What?" She asked, as she saw his eyes darken. "Why would my throat hurt?"

"From all the screaming," he said with a slow, sensual smile.

"I didn't scream," she informed him with narrowed eyes.

"You didn't?" He asked in mock surprise. His eyes flashed.

America felt her body tingle. Her heart started to race again under his gaze. Germany got off the bed and held out a hand for her. America took it, slightly unsure, as she was suddenly pulled up and lifted over his shoulder.

"Don't worry," He promised as he carried her to his bed. "You will this time."

OoOoOo

When England returned an hour later, America wasn't in her room. The nation was rather confused, however he believed that she had gone to get some medicine after all.

However, the next morning when America hobbled to her seat for the meeting, England grew worried about his former charge. She gave him a bright smile, though she seemed distracted throughout the presentations.

OoOoOo

Germany watched America closely all through the meeting, his eyes locking with hers. Blue on blue as he gave her a slow, wicked, smile.

Italy spoke to him rapidly at his side, but Germany hardly paid him any attention as America looked away, a slight blush on her cheeks.

His little treasure had worn a long sleeve business suit to cover up the bruises he'd given her last night, all of them consensual. He had missed her so very much, that he hadn't been able to control himself as well as he would have liked. Germany had awoken with a pleasant sort of soreness in his muscles.

However, none of that mattered right now. Not the meeting, not what Italy was saying, nor what the other nations did.

He only had eyes for America.

OoOoOo

**Translations:**

**Reisen: **_Tease_

**Mein Liebling , mein Geliebter: **_My darling, My beloved_

**Nachgeben: **_Give in_

**Fühl mich: **_Feel me_


	5. Chapter 5

_**Hi all!**_

_**Huzzah for reviews! Sorry, I haven't had much inspiration for this story in a while. Okay a few things. I'll go BDSM with Germany as Dom. I researched this, so I do not guarantee it will be 100% correct. Also, I am hearing a lot of clamoring for more Germerica. I have two in the works and one that I am still plotting out.**_

_**Rated M. **_

_**I own nothing. **_

OoOoOo

America knew that she was as close to a mental wreck as was possible. She felt unnerved. There were emotions of happiness, excitement, pleasure, and contentment. However, those pleasant feelings were in stark contrast to the shame, anger, embarrassment and fear she felt. It was not as easy, nor as simple, as it had always played out in her fantasies.

Actually being with Germany again had been like an addictive drug and she could feel her body wanting just a bit more of him. Or perhaps it was all merely in her mind. She wasn't certain. Yet, there was so much unsaid and unsolved between them still that it made any chance at true closure seem like a distant dream.

She had forgiven him, and it was not fury at him but at herself she felt so keenly now. Why had it taken him years? Why hadn't she raged at him to come back? To stay with her or for them to go to the allies together?

Logically, she knew that the courses of their fates had been for the best. It had to be as it was.

However, there is the painful jab of memories. Bitter nights spent alone and aching for a nation she could never have. Coupled with the moments where he'd been crazed by what the propaganda and charismatic idealizations of a power mad man had made him.

Was what she had done even morally correct? America worried her bottom lip. The sweet lingering soreness in her body prompted her to recall the sweetness in his embrace as well as the force that was Germany.

Yet, no matter if it was correct or not, she still burned for him. America still loved him. The boisterous nation still held a passion for him that had not wavered. Even after decades, the flame between them was as bright as it had ever been. Despite the circumstances that had brought them to this moment.

Was it-?

"America?" England asked in a concerned tone. His familiar accent snapped her out of her whirlwind of thoughts. Some of them helpful. Some not.

The female nation turned toward her ally, tamping down the inner thoughts so as not to express her mounting uncertainty.

"Yes?" She responded in a somewhat distracted tone. Her blue eyes slightly brighter than usual. Other nations could almost swear that she was glowing, metaphorically speaking.

"Are you feeling any better?" His green eyes trail over her face.

She smiled, a bright and happy smile. It was both sincere and fabricated.

"Yeah Dude."

"Dude..." England muttered with a touch of a scowl upon his brow. "How you butcher the wonderful language I gave you."

She laughed, truly amused by how this conversation always seemed to come up when England had nothing pressing to tease her about.

"Oh, you love it and you know it." America said with a mischievous smile. "Don't pretend you don't."

"Was any part of that proper English?"

She shook her head with a soft laughed.

"Likely not," the female nation said with a knowing look.

England huffed under his breath, but she could see by the way his posture was slightly more relaxed that she had eased whatever concern he'd been carrying. Yet, she also glimpsed the slight curve of his lips upward in amusement.

Yeah, England loved her unique nature. And, America cared for England, in all his staunch sternness.

The hairs on her neck stood up, and she became aware that Germany was watching her. Her body knew the weight of his gaze anywhere. Her blue eyes moved from England trying to hide his smile to the deep blue ones she'd looked into most of last night.

When the position allowed, of course.

Something flashed across his eyes. She felt her face flush slightly and America had to bite back a smile. Looking at the European nation made her remember the rumpled sheets on two beds. As well as the tender bruises on her arms.

All of them consensual as she allowed him to pin her arms above her head. Or the bruises on her hips that were a perfect fit to his fingers. They would be gone soon enough.

She looked back at England, her face a blaze as her mind played through their time together last night.

Oh dear.

America shifted in her seat to ease her discomfort. England was looking at her.

"Are you certain you're alright?"

"Of course." America grinned at him, fighting the blush of her face.

Past England's shoulder, she caught a glimpse of Northern Italy. Jealously reared it's head again. Her unsettled feelings were ready to swing toward anger. She was no fool. America knew that Germany and Italy had been lovers.

In fact...

A cold pit of disgust welled in her stomach. Shame flooded her chest, as America nearly closed her eyes. She had forgotten about Northern Italy. A lump formed in her throat and she tried to swallow it back. She hadn't thought to ask...

Was Germany still with Italy?

Her hands shook under the table, but she clasp them together to keep them still. Her blue eyes looked at Italy, who had noticed her and glanced back at her.

Their eyes clashed. Northern Italy gave her a smile and a slight wave. America smiled softly, hating herself for what she perceived to being the 'other' woman. Their gazes continued to hold.

She did not look away first.

"America?" England asked again.

"Hm?"

"Maybe you ought to lie down when the meeting is over." He suggested gently. "You seem distracted."

The female nation turned her full attention back toward him.

"Yeah. Maybe." America said with a breath, trying to ease her sudden surge of emotions. "But, I'm not really tired. Why don't you and I go grab some grub?"

It would at least keep her mind off the images of Germany and Italy that were flashing through her mind. It made her sick to even think about. Perhaps she was being childish, because they hadn't even been together after they parted ways.

However, America wasn't precisely known for being overly mature.

The pleasant feelings from before had vanished to the winds, and she could feel her temples throbbing. She gave England a sweet smile. America had played the fool for decades. Hiding her feeling from England while her heart felt as it were breaking again was nothing by comparison.

She feels strangely bereft of anything except turmoil again. Something she hasn't experienced since 1968.

God, the sixties had not been kind to her in the slightest.

"I'd could go for a bit of food myself," The island nation said with polite nod.

"Great! I'll let you pick the place then," she said congenially.

She swung an arm around her friend, smiling at him kindly.

"Because I'n-"

"Don't say it," England warned her with a touch of seriousness to his voice.

"Awe-"

"If you say it, he'll come out of the bloody wood work to argue with you."

Hm. Fair point.

"Fine," America conceded with a nod of her head. "I'm great like that."

"You are so modest, America. It astounds me."

"Oh hush," she laughed and pulled her arm back trying to keep her thoughts off of the worries that were mounting behind her forced smile.

"Do you feel like Italian?" England asked, without meaning to upset her.

She held back the wince, hard as it is to keep from flinching.

"No," America said, barely hesitating.

OoOoOo

Germany is waiting at the end of the hall. America had excused herself to the rest room and she could not help but wonder what he was doing out of the meeting as well.

However, lately, quite a few things had passed between them. She knows, logically, what he is likely doing in the hallway. The vague expression of irritation, the tightness around his eyes tell her a wealth of information.

America knows he is upset. However, she is hurting and furious at herself. Or him. Or both. It hardly mattered. She'd been a fool to think that all of their problems could be so easily forgotten in a haze of pleasure.

There was far more to them than just animalistic lust.

"America," Germany called out calmly.

"Sorry, Dude," the female nation replied with a disarming grin. "Can't stay. The meeting and all."

His lips thinned, as he stared at her. His body was an unmoving all of solid muscle. America drew closer, intent upon getting back to the safety of the rest of the world. She wasn't afraid of Germany, however she did not want to risk their 'dirty laundry' being aired out here of all places.

"Are you avoiding me?"

"Yes," she told him blandly, not seeing the point in denying it. She had always had trouble lying to him. Perhaps it was because she loved him, or because some part of his 1944 self was still etched upon her brain.

"Why?"

She stared forward, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of a reply, but understanding that he deserved one. It was not fair to be upset with someone without telling them 'why'. She adjusted Texas as she stopped just short of Germany.

His blue eyes were watching her intently, a hardness about them that made part of her quake in desire. America shoved the foreign feeling to the deepest recesses of her thoughts.

"Are you still with Italy?" She asked seriously, in a quiet tone that nearly had Germany straining to hear it.

Her sky blue gaze met his. Blue on blue. She wanted so desperately for him to deny being attached with the other nation. Let it be her overactive imagination. Perhaps the supposed relationship between the male nations had just been rumors. Perpetuated by the vicious gossip mill that was the U.N. meetings.

Please.

God Please.

America faced Germany with her head held high and her chin lifted slightly in defiance. There was hope shining in her eyes, a traitorous sort of vulnerability.

Silence reigned between them. Germany said nothing. HIs lack of denial ringing loudly in her ears. America gave a bitter, but soft laugh.

"Ah. Ha. God. I am such an _idiot._" She said with self-deprecation.

"America-"

She held her hand up as she closed her eyes.

"No. NO. You do not get to '_America'_, me." She swallowed, trying to push the lump of welling disappointment and crushing sadness down. She attempted to brush past him.

Germany reached for her, and she tried to shrug off his grasp. His hands are warm and unyielding.

Damn him.

Damn them both. She was such a fool. A dreamer, as England often accused her of being. She thought that Germany had felt as she had...

The sweet words he had whispered had really been sweet nothings.

"America," He said again, with a sharp edge to her name. "You will not walk off without giving me the chance to explain."

Her eyes narrowed, and she flicked her gaze back up to him.

"What could you possibly have to explain?" She hissed.

"You will not take that tone of voice with me." He stated with a calm demeanor. Something flashed behind the blue depths of his eyes.

America continued to glare at him, her anger welled inside her at his audacity to try and tell her what to do.

"I can see you're angry." Germany said calmly. "There is no need to be. We are having a discussion."

There was something about him that made her want to edge back a bit more. His grip on her loosened, and America stepped away. Her eyes lowered, though she did not quite understand why.

"I do not have time to talk right now." She informed him, still angry, but her ire was cooling. The way in which he said the words had America felling different. A bit more reserved. Normally she would have told someone to go to hell, how to get there, and several things they could do along the way.

"Why?" He asked, unmoving.

" I'm going to dinner with England." she informed him, the heat was gone from her words. "I must be getting back."

She avoided his gaze, unable to look at the eyes that sapped her resolve away.

"No."

America's head snapped up, her mouth parting in surprise.

"What?"

"You aren't going to dinner with England." Germany said commandingly.

"Why not?"

"Because I said so."

America could only look at him in stark disbelief.

His cold eyes pierced her. Hard and demanding, yet watchful at the same time.

"I think," he said slowly with some of his accent shining through his clipped tones. "That you rather enjoy it when someone else takes control."

Her chest clenched tightly.

"What on Earth are you talking about?" She asked with confusion. "That has nothing to do with dinner with England."

A smug smile tugged at his lips.

"I noticed that you don't deny it though."

Damn this bastard.

America glared at him, her blue eyes not showing their usual heat. There was wariness in her face and body. There was something shifting in the air between them and she was not certain she approved of where this was going.

He circled her like a shark.

"Is it freeing to you?" His lips ghosted over the shell of her ear.

She shivered.

"You don't have to answer," he said lowly.

His hands were on her shoulders, caressing them lightly. She relaxed at the touch, without realizing it.

"Your body is already telling me everything I need to know."

He captured her lips in a bruising kiss. Pushing her back toward the wall. Germany pulled back, his eyes glittered with a dominance in them that America had not glimpsed in many a decade.

"I think, perhaps, there are some things we need to talk about."

America stared at him, and swallowed. Her throat felt dry. She felt the urge to lash out, to rebel. And, she gave into it nearly instantly. She would not continue to be the home wrecker or the one that slept with a taken man again.

Her blue eyes clashed with his.

"Either you're with me or you're with Italy." She insisted stubbornly as she panted heavily. "That is all we really have to talk about. So choose. Right now."

Germany narrowed his gaze upon her, a thunderous look on his face.

"You do not tell me what to do," he said lowly.

Her heart thundered in her chest, the blood rushed in her ears. There was a sense of cold dread that pooled in her body.

"So..." she said with a tongue that felt as heavy as her heart. "It is Italy then?"

Germany's eyes were hard. He placed an arm on either side of America, effectively trapping her against the wall.

"I will speak with him at lunch. I will end things with him then."

Her eyes widened and she blinked up a Germany with an expression that bordered on pained disbelief.

"You will?"

"Ja." He said forcefully. "You will wait for me in your hotel room. Do you understand?"

America could only tremble as a part of her took hold and nodded quickly.


End file.
